Cold
by Alyssa4
Summary: Dave Agnst! I'm VERY EXCITED about this fic! It goes backwards like the movie memento! FINAL CHAPTER UP!
1. Default Chapter

Cold   
By Alyssa   
Disclaimer: "I, Alyssa, do solemnly swear…." Turns briefly to look behind her at the man holding a gun to her back. She clears her throat and continues, "That I do not own any of the characters from the hit show 'ER'." Apparently having finished her job she feels the pressure of the barrel leaving her back.   
  
IMPORTANT!!!!! This story starts out going backwards in time. You read one scene, and then the scene that came before it (anyone ever seen Memento?). Later though it will go forward in time starting from right here, the 'beginning' of this story. You'll understand later.   
  
  
  
Cold; extrememly cold. But from what? Oh, snow. Where was he? Dark: night. Cold, windy, and dark.   
  
~~~   
  
"I said, get down on the ground!" The man was yelling, keeping a steady hand on the gun.   
"This is useless, what is this supposed to solve?" Dave asked softly, trying to keep the fear from gripping his voice.   
"We already went through this, and I don't want to explain myself again!" The man yelled. He stared at Dave threatingly. "Now get onto your knees." Dave reluctantly moved onto one knee, and then the other.   
"You don't want to do this. I know you don't." Dave pleaded more than stated.   
"You don't know what I want to do." The man snarled. "This is exactly what I want to do."   
"Aren't you afraid someone might hear?" Dave tried. This wasn't supposed to be the end, was it?   
"Not really, no. But I wasn't planning to shoot you, not unless I have to."   
"What are you planning to do?" Dave asked. His eyes pleaded for the man to let him go, to just disappear into the night.   
"I'm planning to knock you out and let you freeze to death." The man spat vicously.   
"You don't want to do this Mr. Sturgeon. I know you're not a killer." Dave tried to keep the sobs from affecting his voice.   
"No, I'm not the murderer. YOU are!" Mr. Sturgeon cursed, his hand swingly violently towards Dave.   
"No!" Dave managed to move his head to the side, but wasn't able to dodge the blow. It connected with the back of his head and he fell into the snow.   
  
Cold; extrememly cold.   
  
~~~   
  
Dave slowly escalated into conciousness. He tried to shake the haze from its firm grip on his brain, but he couldn't. Ah, yes, the halodal. He couldn't see, was he blind? He tried to move his hands to examine his face, but he couldn't. He was tied up. "Ahhh…." Dave stifled as his head hit the roof of the trunk. He tried vainly to shake the blindfold off, and struggled with his tied hands. Then it hit him; he was going to die. He had only thought that once before in his entire life, and now was just as frightening.   
  
Where was Mr. Sturgeon taking him? Whatever the answer, Dave knew that he was serious. This was too sick to be a joke. If someone had told him earlier that day, that he would be killed by a patient's father, he would have laughed it off. Dave wasn't laughing now. He wondered briefly how long they had been traveling, but what did it matter where he died. Dave thought of all there options, and it wasn't hard, because there wasn't many. He began to kick out the taillights of the car; he could only hope that a cop would pull them over. Dave managed to get one light out, but he couldn't reposition himself to get the other one. He relaxed resignedly. There was nothing he could do but wait.   
  
He didn't have to wait long. He felt the car move over to the side, and then heard the car door open and close. Suddenly a key was in the trunk lock and then Dave's whole world exploded. There he was; Mr. Sturgeon, smiling insanely.   
"You're only getting what you deserve!" Mr. Sturgeon muttered brutally. Dave couldn't find an answer to that, so he remained quiet. Stunned by what was happening, he stayed limp as Mr. Sturgeon pulled him out.   
  
Dave saw that they were in an open, snowy field. There was nothing and no one in sight. Dave fought to keep the tears from coming. He was filled with immense pain. There was so many things he still had to do: places to go, people to visit, apologies to be made. Now, he would die as he had lived: a nobody. Finally Mr. Sturgeon stopped, apparently pleased with their distance from road.   
"You're going to die for what you did to my son." Mr. Sturgeon said in his deep, throaty voice.   
"It's what he wanted. I only did it because it was what he wanted." Dave tried to correct.   
"He didn't want to die! I would have known if he wanted to die!" Mr. Sturgeon lost control of his voice.   
"It was what he wanted. He was in end-stage Mr. Sturgeon." Dave said softly, trying to sound comforting. Mr. Sturgeon shook his head, he still refused to believe it.   
"Get down on the ground." He commanded calmly.   
"What?" Dave asked, he didn't understand what was happening.   
  
"I said, get down on the ground!" The man was yelling, keeping a steady hand on the gun.   
"This is useless, what is this supposed to solve?" Dave asked softly, trying to keep the fear from gripping his voice.   
  
~~~   
  
Dave happily erased a name on the board. Today had been a long day. Needlessly long, and he deserved to be off. He walked contentedly back to the lounge to grab his stuff. Carter was just clocking in, and he smiled at him.   
"Rough day?" Carter asked.   
"You can't even imagine." Was all Dave could say in explanation.   
"You going to tell me about it?" Carter asked.   
"I have a feeling you'll hear from everybody else. I'm going home, see you later." Dave closed his locker; that was such a beautiful sound.   
"Yeah, bye." Carter answered.   
  
Dave pulled his coat collar up around his ears as he prepared to step into the chilly winter night.   
"Have an uneventful night!" Randi called. Dave turned and gave her a smile, then continued on. The icy wind bit into his face the second he stepped out the cold; he was so glad he wasn't homeless tonight.   
  
He hadn't taken two steps when he felt a jab in his arm. He turned instinctively to see what had hurt him.   
"Mr. Sturgeon?" He gasped. Then he looked to see what Mr. Sturgeon was dropping, "Was that halodal?!?" Dave demanded as he saw the syringe nestle deeply into the snow.   
"You're going to get what you deserve. You…." He heard Mr. Sturgeon say before the world turned black.   
  
Dave slowly escalated into conciousness. He tried to shake the haze from its firm grip on his brain, but he couldn't. Ah, yes, the halodal.   
  
~~~


	2. Chapter 2

Cold  
By Alyssa  
Yellowbrick_1@hotmail.com  
Rating: PG13, better be safe  
Disclaimer: "I, Alyssa, do solemnly swear…." Turns briefly to look behind her at the man holding a gun to her back. She clears her throat and continues, "That I do not own any of the characters from the hit show 'ER'." Apparently having finished her job she feels the pressure of the barrel leaving her back.  
Dave looked into the young man's sad eyes. "Are you sure you want to do this?" He asked Mike Sturgeon. Mike only nodded. "Okay," Dave answered, "Then I'll get you the forms." He left the room slowly, trying to delay; trying to give Mike time to change his mind. He walked over to the admit desk, and told Randi to find him a DNR form. Then he headed straight to the bathroom.  
  
He always hated cases like this: young patients, giving up on life. He looked at himself in the mirror, and thought briefly about why he deserved to live and that other man didn't. He shook it off; as a doctor, he couldn't think about those things, simply because they happen too often. He left the bathroom and returned to the admit desk.  
"Did you find them?" He asked Randi.  
"Yep." She answered, sticking her hand out, but keeping her eyes on her magazine. Dave took them and headed back to Mike's room. He slipped a pen out of his pocket and then pushed open the door.  
  
"Do you want me to sit you up?" Dave asked Mike.  
"Sure." Mike answered, his voice only carrying the smallest hint of anxiety. Dave looked at him straight in the eyes while he handed over the papers.   
"I want you to think about this, Mike. There are always new studies..."  
"I've had enough studies." Mike interrupted him. "I'll leave them for somebody else." Dave nodded and handed over the pen. Mike gave him a grim smile and took it in a shaky hand. "This is really what I want. I don't want to go through it anymore."  
"I understand." Dave nodded. He didn't, he really didn't; why would someone want to die?  
  
Mike held the pen out for Dave and slipped the papers towards him again. He smiled again, more genuine.   
"You can take it back anytime you want." Dave told him. Mike nodded.  
"I know, but I won't want to."  
"Ok." Dave paused a moment, then grabbed the papers. "I'll go turn these in, and I'll check in on you later."  
"Don't worry about me, doc."  
"Just sit tight and don't cause too much trouble." Dave flashed him a smile, and left the room.  
  
Dave took a deep breath: only two hours left. He erased his last patients name off the board and headed for another chart. Suddenly, there was beeping and Haleh yelled to Dave.  
"Who is it?" Dave asked.  
"Mike." Haleh answered.   
  
Dave cursed under his breath and he sprinted off towards Mike's room. The heart monitor was beeping loudly, and Mike lie silently on his bed. Dave walked over to him, and turned off the monitor without even looking at it. He wished he could comfort Mike, tell him something, but he was already gone.  
"His dad still hasn't come in yet?" Dave asked. Haleh shook her head.  
"He's on his way; had to come in from work." She said softly. Dave shook his head, and pulled his stethoscope over his ears. He lightly pressed to cold metal to Mike's chest, repositioned, and tried again. Dave shook his head.  
"Time of death 19:23." He reached down to pull the sheet over Mike's head. "Call the morgue and tell me when Mike's dad gets here. I'm going to go get some coffee."  
  
Dave headed towards the lounge, pulled his stethoscope from his neck and fell heavily into a chair. He wiped his eyes and tried to clear his thoughts. He stood to go get a cup of coffee, when Haleh appeared in the doorway.  
"He's here." She said. Dave looked at her surprised. Perfect timing. He hurried out of the lounge to see a middle-aged man walking towards him.  
"Where's his room? How is he?" the man asked.  
"Mr. Sturgeon, your son, Mike, died a few minutes ago." Dave broke it quickly.  
"What?" Mr. Sturgeon asked.  
  
Dave led him to Mike's room, and they looked through the window towards the peaceful looking Mike.  
"He's really dead?" Mr. Sturgeon asked. Dave nodded solemnly. "I always knew it was going to happen, but I thought I would have more time. He's my only child; he's the only thing I have in the world."  
"I know how hard this must be for you." Dave said quietly.  
  
Mr. Sturgeon looked at him, with pain in his eyes. "How is this possible? They said he had more than a month left." He groaned.  
"He might of; yes." Dave answered solemnly. He always hated breaking the news that a loved one had died. 


	3. Chapter 3

Cold  
By Alyssa  
Yellowbrick_1@hotmail.com  
Rating: PG13, better be safe  
Disclaimer: "I, Alyssa, do solemnly swear…." Turns briefly to look behind her at the man holding a gun to her back. She clears her throat and continues, "That I do not own any of the characters from the hit show 'ER'." Apparently having finished her job she feels the pressure of the barrel leaving her back.  
  
Dave walked into the ER tired and irritable. He hurried past the admit desk and headed for the lounge. All he wanted was some coffee before his shift.  
"You better not let Weaver see you." Haleh cautioned as she entered the lounge.  
"Yeah, well, my lack of energy makes me apathetic." Dave responded as he poured the coffee into his mug.  
"Whatever, as long as you aren't as touchy as Jing-Mei was earlier." Haleh responded. Dave smiled as he sipped the coffee black.  
"What was wrong with her?" He asked.  
"She worked graveyard last night and has to work it again tonight." Haleh answered.  
"Oh, well poor Jing-Mei." Dave sneered.  
"What are you doing in here?" Kerry asked as she stormed in.  
"Getting coffee before my shift starts." Dave answered calmly.  
"Your shift starts when I tell you it starts, and since the board is full, it starts now." Kerry snapped.  
  
Dave drained the last of his coffee, saluted, and passed Kerry on his way out. Haleh snickered and Kerry shot her the evil eye.  
Dave checked the board. There was a large variety of cases for him to choose from: Diarrhea, cramps, crabs, hemorrhoids, the flu, chest pain, and on and on. Dave randomly picked up a chart, read 'crabs' and picked again. Finding this case to his liking, he headed towards exam 3.  
  
He walked in and gave his patient a smile.   
'So what's bothering you… Mike?" Dave asked as he read the chart.  
"I'm end stage leukemia." Mike answered blandly, his voice hoarse and weak.  
"I see." Dave said, shocked, as he hadn't read that far down yet. "Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?" He asked softly.  
"I think this is it." Mike responded.  
"What?" Dave had never had a patient say that before.  
"This is it, I can feel it." Mike seemed to stare off into space. Dave walked towards the bed.  
"There are things we can do. Things that can help you live longer." Dave responded.  
"No," Mike shook his head firmly, then he turned his dark, hollow eyes towards Dave. "I don't want to do it anymore. I'm through." Dave nodded as if in understanding, and looked down at his feet.  
"Ok then, I can get you the papers if you'd like. Is there any family members, or religious leader, you'd like to consult?" Dave asked. This question was straight from the books, and Dave hated to give it.  
"There's my dad, but I don't want him to know. He won't understand." Mike shook his head, letting his dark hair move against his pale face. "You should call him though, after I get the papers signed." Mike added. Dave could only nod.  
  
  
Dave looked into the young man's sad eyes. "Are you sure you want to do this?" He asked Mike Sturgeon. Mike only nodded. "Okay," Dave answered, "Then I'll get you the forms."  
  
A/n: This was a quickie, but that's ok, because the next chapter will start off with where we began: Dave in the snow!  
What will happen? I don't know! Ok, scratch that, I partly know. 


	4. Chapter 4

Cold  
By Alyssa  
Yellowbrick_1@hotmail.com  
Rating: PG13, better be safe  
Disclaimer: "I, Alyssa, do solemnly swear…." Turns briefly to look behind her at the man holding a gun to her back. She clears her throat and continues, "That I do not own any of the characters from the hit show 'ER'." Apparently having finished her job she feels the pressure of the barrel leaving her back.  
  
Back again, finally. We got two hours off for snow, so I finished this chapter (my computer was down all weekend). I just wanted to warn, that since I'm only 16 and have no medical knowledge, I pretty much faked most of this chapter. Most of the information I used I got from Encarta, the rest I just tried to reason out. Anyway, enjoy.  
(and if any of you were wondering why there is a field in Chicago, or how County could possibly be the closest hospital, I've got your answer: plot convenience. ?)  
  
  
  
  
Cold; extremely cold. But from what? Oh, snow. Where was he? Dark: night. Cold, windy, and dark. How long had he been here? Wait, where was he?   
  
He was able to hear something in the distance. An alarm? No, it didn't sound like an alarm. A busy signal? No, no he wasn't on the phone. His head hurt and he couldn't comprehend anything, but the it finally clicked; Dog: barking. That was it. It was a dog.  
  
Dave tried to raise his hopes, but they were buried too deep in the snow. Then he heard someone gasp, and felt a hand shaking him. He couldn't open his eyes, but he was too tired to care.   
"Are you alive?" He heard a frightened female voice ask. Dave tried to respond, but he was barely able to get his blue lips to part.  
"You're alive!" The girl screamed loudly. Then Dave heard beeping sounds as the girl typed a phone number into her cell phone. "I've got an emergency!" The girl yelled almost before she stopped dialing. "I was walking my dog; there's this guy in the snow; he's still alive!" She yelled.   
  
Dave remotely felt the dog sniffing him, and he wanted to laugh. He wasn't dead. At least not right now. The girl, the girl that will probably save his life, was calling an ambulance. Before he was able to finish his sluggish thinking, the girl was kneeling besides him.   
  
His eyes were closed and she wasn't sure if he could hear her. He looked so pale, with a bluish hew that it scared her. She hadn't thought that people could actually turn blue. She hoped with all of her might that he would live, even though she didn't know him.  
"They're on their way. Just stay with me. Everything is going to be all right." She whispered reassuringly. Dave liked that thought; that everything would be all right. He felt the added weight of another coat finding its way on top of him. Then he felt the weight of the dog on his feet. "Sit." The woman told the dog sternly. Then her voice was back in his ear. "I read about the Donner party once, and how they put dogs on top of them to keep warm. Did you ever learn about the Donner party?" she was trying to get him to talk, or respond, but it wasn't working. At least Dave didn't think it was working until she continued, "Yeah, I learned it in middle school." Then he realized he must have nodded.  
  
He was so tired, and he wished, against better judgment, that the lady would just leave him alone so he could go back to sleep. He realized he couldn't even feel anything anymore. She continued to speak to him, somewhat frantically, but he didn't listen.   
  
She could tell he was giving up, and she couldn't believe it. She tried to talk to him, but could tell that he wasn't hearing her. She just hoped the ambulance would arrive soon  
  
He wasn't sure how long all this was taking, but then he heard a familiar sound in the distance; it was an ambulance.   
  
The two paramedics piled out of the ambulance and followed the frantic waves of a lady out into a snowy field. The girl moved away from the body as they approached and started to explain.  
"I was walking Oso, and all of a sudden he was just pulling me in this direction; he must have smelt him." The paramedics nodded and moved to kneel next to the man lying in the snow. One of them checked his pulse, while the other opened the eyelids carefully and peaked inside.  
"Sir? Can you hear me? Do you know what happened to you?" The second paramedic asked.  
  
If the girl had been slightly annoying, these paramedics were parasitical. Dave finally realized how aggravating this poking and prodding business could be. Why couldn't anybody leave him alone? Before Dave could accurately process the possible answers of this rhetorical question, he had slipped back into unconsciousness.  
  
"His pulse is thready. He's hypothermic." The first paramedic told the second.  
"OK, let's move him. Bring the stretcher and the blankets."  
  
Soon Dave was wrapped and on the stretcher. The paramedics wheeled him, with great difficulty, towards the road. The lady followed them, pulling her dog reluctantly along.  
"What am I supposed to do? Am I going to be questioned or something?" She asked.  
"Maybe." The second paramedic responded. "Go home, get warm, then drive to County Hospital. The police will probably meet you there."  
The girl slowly turned and walked away, looking back only a couple of times.  
  
Dave woke up again in the ambulance. His body was cold again, and he wished he could go back to not feeling it at all. He was able to open his eyes for the first time in a long time. A paramedic was bustling around, adding an extra blanket and rechecking the IV. Dave mentally went through the sequence of the treatment for hypothermia. Then he almost laughed, as he realized he had diagnosed himself without even knowing it. This whole trip was amusing, but he couldn't reason why. He watched the paramedic until finally their eyes met and the paramedic realized he was awake.  
  
"Sir? Can you tell me your name? Do you know what happened to you?" the paramedic asked. Dave tried to talk, he really did, but his throat was parched and his head was spinning. Dave tried to move his hand, but it felt as if his whole body was light-headed. He was suffering from a head rush 100x stronger than normal. The thought of talking made him nauseous, and he decided to close his eyes and sleep the rest of the way to the hospital.  
  
The paramedic could tell he wasn't even trying, and it made him mad. How was he supposed to help someone who didn't want to be helped?  
  
~~~  
  
"An hour left." Jing-Mei announced as she approached the admit desk.  
"And trust me, I'm very happy for you." Carter answered. Jing-Mei smiled and playfully punched him on the arm.  
"Don't rain on my parade. I have some quality sleeping hours ahead of me." She smiled as she looked through the charts.  
"30 year old male coming in. Hypothermia." Haleh announced as she found the two doctors.  
"ETA?" Jing-Mei asked.  
"Ten minutes." Haleh responded.  
"Bad enough for the two of us?" Carter asked, after looking down at the chart he had picked.  
"I think so." Haleh answered.  
  
  
  
a/n: I'll try to get more out this weekend. Please Review. 


	5. Chapter 5

Cold  
By Alyssa  
Yellowbrick_1@hotmail.com  
Rating: PG13, better be safe  
Disclaimer: "I, Alyssa, do solemnly swear…." Turns briefly to look behind her at the man holding a gun to her back. She clears her throat and continues, "That I do not own any of the characters from the hit show 'ER'." Apparently having finished her job she feels the pressure of the barrel leaving her back.  
  
It's March and still snowing here in Washington! Wow, we almost never get snow in January! Anyway,   
I just wanted to warn, that since I'm only 16 and have no medical knowledge, I pretty much faked most of this chapter.  
(and if any of you were wondering why there is a field in Chicago, or how County could possibly be the closest hospital, I've got your answer: plot convenience.:) )  
  
  
  
  
Jing-Mei and Carter readied themselves for the trauma.   
"Five dollars says it's a homeless man." Carter smiled.  
"John, that's not funny." Jing-Mei scolded. "Plus, it's usually the transients who get hypothermia."  
"The ambulance is here." Haleh called through the door. Jing-Mei and Carter followed her voice out into the cold. The paramedic jumped out the back and started to talk as he brought the gurney down.  
"A lady found him lying in an open field. It looks like somebody cold cocked him." He said.   
  
As the paramedic pulled the gurney forward, the patient's face slowly came into view.  
"Dave?!?" Jing-Mei asked, bewildered.  
"Where did you say you found him?" John asked anxiously.  
"In a field. Looks like somebody knocked him out." The paramedic responded. Jing-Mei and Carter exchanged worried and confused glances as they pushed the gurney along.  
"Warm the saline and get some blankets in here!" John called loudly.   
  
They pushed Dave into trauma one, and started to work. Jing-Mei's fingers suddenly seemed thick and clumsy. She chanced a glance at her fallen co-worker. He was unconscious; his hair was a mess, his face was smeared with dirt, and his lips were slightly purple.  
"Who would do this, John? Why?" Jing-Mei asked quietly.  
"I don't know. We can ask him when he wakes up." John responded. Jing-Mei nodded and tried to hold back the tears.  
  
~~~  
  
Mr. Sturgeon entered the hospital only the slightest bit uneasy. He had come to finalize the transportation of Mike's body to the funeral home. He knew it wasn't possible that anybody could know what he had done, but it still worried him a little. As he stood near the admit desk, he couldn't help but hear the sounds from the trauma room. His anger flared again as he wondered how they could try so hard to save one person, and not try at all to save his son.   
  
Somebody from the trauma room was calling for more blankets, and Mr. Sturgeon's ears perked. Blankets? No, it had to be somebody else. He found himself drifting towards the trauma room. Just as he was about to reach it, a nurse burst out and passed by him, probably to get the needed blankets. As the door started to close, he twisted with it to get a view of the patient. His breathing stopped, and his blood pulsed at his temples. No; it couldn't be true. No!  
  
He could barely refrain from running in and choking the young doctor right then. It couldn't be possible, but it was. The doctors that were attending him were working feverishly, and Mr. Sturgeon knew right then, that he wouldn't die.   
  
"Excuse me!" A shrill voice called from behind him. A redhead with a crutched pushed past him and into the trauma room to join with her colleagues to save his son's murderer.  
  
Mr. Sturgeon forced himself to turn, and walked slowly back to the admit desk. He would finalize Mike's burial, but he would also finalize something else. He had to get to that doctor before he was able to report him. He had no choice, and this wasn't the ending he had hoped for.  
  
~~~  
  
"Temp's up, we have to transport him." Kerry said. She had been eating her microwave dinner when Haleh had burst in with the news. Haleh had told her that somebody had knocked Dave out, and Kerry couldn't help but be furious. "Try to ward the police off until he's well enough." She called as an afterthought as Jing-Mei escorted the gurney to the elevator.  
  
Kerry turned in the now-empty trauma room. "So you have no idea what happened?" she asked. John merely shook his head. Then he seemed to remember something.  
"He was just getting off shift when I came in. Whoever did this must have got him on his way home."  
"Do you think they were waiting for him?" Kerry asked incredulously. John simply shrugged.  
  
~~~  
  
Mr. Sturgeon turned as Dr. Malucci's gurney was rolled past him. He glared down at the still form and steady beeping monitor. He'd get Dr. Malucci; he knew he would. It was all a matter of time.  
  
A/N:  
I know, I know. I'm really bad with writing quickie chapters. But, now that I have an idea formed, maybe they will come faster! 


	6. Chapter 6

Dave slowly drifted into consciousness, and his first thought was: I'm not cold. He could feel the tightly tucked blanket around him, and his head was fuzzy: probably some medication, he figured.  
"Feeling better? You sure don't look it." John's teasing voice came through the haze. Dave managed to open his eyes, and stared at Carter's blurry form.  
"Hmm…" he just managed to answer. John smiled  
"It's alright. Kerry ordered that you stay up here a while. He had pretty bad hypothermia."   
"I was cold." Dave answered without hesitation. John couldn't help but burst out laughing.  
"I bet you were. Anyway, Kerry demanded that we don't bug you, so I'll catch you later." Carter excused himself and left the room.  
  
Dave was very confused. He couldn't remember for the life of him why he had hypothermia. All he remembered was the cold. He shrugged it off; he was too tired to care at this point. He drifted off to sleep.  
  
~~~  
  
Mike gave him a grim smile and took it in a shaky hand. "This is really what I want. I don't want to go through it anymore."  
  
He saw the syringe nestle deeply into the snow.  
  
He wondered briefly how long they had been traveling, but what did it matter where he died.  
  
Dave saw that they were in an open, snowy field.  
  
"I said, get down on the ground!"  
  
"I'm planning to knock you out and let you freeze to death." The man spat viciously.  
  
~~~  
  
Dave shot upright with unprecedented speed. His head throbbed, and he had thoroughly soaked his sheets with sweat. Remnants of the dream still lingered on, but they were just that: remnants. He had no idea what they were of, or if he had simply made them up. They made no logical sense, and all they did was torment him.   
  
He stumbled to his private bathroom, and turned on the faucet. He filled his cupped hands, and splashed the cold water against his face. Cold; an open field.  
  
He tried to shake the memory from his head as he walked over to the chair where somebody had left scrubs for him. He pulled off his hospital gown, and slipped into the scrub bottoms.   
  
Suddenly a cold hand landed on his shoulder, and he twirled around to meet its owner. In the dark of the room, the face was ruled by shadows, yet it seemed vaguely familiar.  
"Excuse me? Do I know you?" Dave asked, more curious then afraid. Something hard struck the side of his head; something that had been previously concealed in the perpetrator's other hand.  
  
Dave fell heavily to the floor, but he wasn't unconscious. He could hear the door of his room opening, and the person wheeling in a gurney. He felt as the person picked him up from under his arms and struggled to lift him onto the lower gurney. Dave tried to remain as limp as possible, all the while trying to work his sluggish mind into forming a plan.  
  
He tried to hold onto his consciousness with all that he had, but as he felt the man securing blankets around him, his mind began to slip. Despite all his efforts, he was unconscious before they left the room.  
  
~~~  
  
"Kerry, the police are getting anxious." Randi called from the admit desk. Kerry sighed and rubbed her eyes; she couldn't hold them off any longer.  
"Jing-Mei," She turned to the young woman besides her, "Would you mind warning him before they burst in?" She asked.  
"No problem." Jing-Mei answered, turning towards the elevator.  
  
~~~  
  
Jing-Mei walked leisurely towards Dave's room. She wondered if he would be awake, or whether she would have to wake him. She pushed open the room to find it obscured in darkness. She flipped the switch and slowly took in her surroundings. The blanket from the bed was missing, and a scrub top and hospital gown were strewn on the ground  
"Dave?" She called, confused. She wondered if he could be in the bathroom. But as she walked further into the room, she could see that the bathroom door was open, and the bathroom was empty and dark.  
"Dave?!?" She called again.  
  
Her emergency instincts kicked in, and she ran to the nurses' station on that floor.  
"Where did Dave Malucci go?" She demanded of the nurse sitting at the computer.  
"What?" The nurse asked, obviously perturbed at being yelled at.  
"Dave Malucci, where did he go? Was he transferred somewhere?" She asked rapidly.  
"Let me check." The nurse flipped through some paperwork, too slow for Jing-Mei. "No, he wasn't moved…" The nurse said reluctantly.  
"Then where is he?" Jing-Mei's anger flew.  
"I haven't seen him anywhere." The nurse answered coolly.  
  
Jing-Mei decided not to waste her time, and she flew once more for the elevator. She could barely wait for the doors to close, and kept pressing the button relentlessly. She tapped her foot nervously as the elevator moved slowly downward. Thoughts ran through her head.   
Where was Dave?  
Who had taken?  
Maybe he went for a walk…  
  
She was almost surprised when the doors open to reveal a bustling ER. She hurried down the hall.  
"Kerry? Kerry?" She called as she ran.  
"Jing-Mei what's the rush?" Carter asked as he stepped in front of her.  
"Dave, he's gone. I don't know where he is." Jing-Mei spilled out quickly.  
"What?" John asked incredulously.  
"I don't know; I don't know where he went!" She exclaimed nervously.  
  
"Jing-Mei! You're alarming the patients!" Kerry called as she walked towards them.  
"Kerry, Dave is gone." John answered in a low voice.  
"What?" She asked in disbelief.  
"He's gone." Jing-Mei repeated.  
  
  
A/N:  
Another quicky, but, what are you gonna do? Wow, Dave is missing again! What are the odds of that! Anyway, please review! 


	7. Chapter 7

His wrists burned. Dave opened his eyes slowly, and fleetingly wondered if he was late for work. He soon realized he wasn't in his room, or any other room he could think of. He tried to move his arm, but he was unable. Confused and a little anxious, Dave turned his stare to look at it. His wrist was tied securely to the rail of the gurney. He pulled at it nervously, but it only caused the burning sensation to intensify.  
  
He struggled weakly as he took in his surroundings. He was in a plain, but clean room. There was a twin bed in the corner and a small dresser. A guest room, he concluded. It looked normal enough, but if it was, why was he tied to a gurney?  
"Hello?" He called loudly. He heard footsteps approaching the door, and the handle seemed to turn with agonizing sluggishness. A man entered and walked coldly towards him.  
  
Dave looked up at the man's face, and shivered slightly. He knew this man, but he didn't know where he'd seen him. All the same, he could sense that he wasn't there to help him.  
  
~~~  
  
"Security hasn't found anything." Randi reported to Kerry.  
"Dammit! Where is he?" Kerry exclaimed. Carter and Jing-Mei leaned against the admit desk and kept silent.  
"How could he slip out unnoticed?" Kerry demanded.  
"It's possible whoever did this, lured him out somehow." Carter suggested quietly.  
  
The police officer that had first come to interview Dave, returned from his examination of Dave's room.  
"The blanket from Dr. Malucci's bed was missing, and the stern clothing may suggest a struggle." He informed Kerry.  
"Any idea how he got out?" She asked.  
"Someone may have concealed him with the blanket." The policeman answered.  
"Is there any missing gurneys?" Jing-Mei interjected suddenly. Kerry turned to her, and then to Randi.  
"Randi, get on that." She instructed. Randi nodded and picked up the phone. "How are we supposed to find him?"  
  
~~~  
  
"You were supposed to die." The man almost whispered.  
"What?" Dave exclaimed, unsure if he'd heard correctly.  
"I couldn't leave you there to identify me." The man continued.  
"What? I don't even know you!" Dave shouted, upset. The man seemed genuinely startled.  
"You don't remember?" He asked tentatively.  
"Remember what?"  
  
The man glared at him, as if to judge his sincerity.   
"You're lying." He finally concluded. "You no good bastard. You though you could get away with it. I'll show you. I won't let you get away with murder."  
"I've never murdered anybody." Dave answered evenly. This man was psycho. The man's face glared red and his hit Dave square on the cheekbone. Dave recoiled form the sudden, unexpected attack. With his arms tied down, he couldn't defend himself.  
"You killed my son. You deserve to die." The man spat. Dave looked up at him, willing to accept that he was totally at this man's mercy. He couldn't be stubborn now. If he wanted to survive, he had to play it safe.  
"I'm sorry if I've wronged you in anyway, but my I really do not remember anything you are talking about." Dave said submissively.  
  
Despite Dave's total compliance, the man seemed to grow angrier still.  
"My son! You killed my son! Mike Sturgeon, does that ring a bell?" He yelled as his fist connected again with Dave's face.  
  
A/N:  
I was in Canada for 3 days, and that is my excuse for not updating sooner. Review and suggest, please! 


	8. Chapter 8

"So far there are three missing gurneys." Randi reported as she hung up the phone.  
"Three? How do we lose gurneys that quickly?" Weaver exclaimed. Randi just shrugged. "Ok, listen to me. The board is filling up. Jing-Mei, Carter, you have to get back to work." Weaver finally decided, looking towards the ground and shaking her head. Jing-Mei and Carter wanted to complain, but chose to simply follow her orders. As they walked away, Jing-Mei whispered to Carter.  
"Do you really believe this is happening?" She asked him.  
"No." Carter answered simply.  
"Don't you wonder where he is?" She asked more persistently.  
"I'm trying not to."  
  
~~~  
  
Dave's head throbbed, and he opened his eyes to see that the man had left again. Mike Sturgeon. Mike Sturgeon. The man had said that he'd killed his son; Mike Sturgeon. It sounded vaguely familiar. Dave tried his best to remember this man he'd killed, but he couldn't. However, he did remember being cold. And the car; the trunk. And the haldol. And Mr. Sturgeon.  
  
It was coming back, most of it anyway. Mr. Sturgeon had drugged him, and brought put him into his trunk. He had taken Dave to a field, and left him there to die. Dave remembered it, now, with almost crystal clarity. He wasn't sure how it had come back so fast, but now that it had, he was more resolute than ever that he had to get out of her.  
  
He remembered being in the car. It had been an utterly hopeless situation, and he was in a similar situation right now. He remembered waking up in the trunk, and battling for comprehension. He remembered his frustration at himself, because the haldol rendered him feckless. He remembered the sleepy state of his mind, comforting and torturing at the same time. Now it was all back again.  
  
Approaching footsteps jerked him out of his thoughts. He had to think of something, and soon.   
  
Mr. Sturgeon walked in and closed the door slowly behind him. He turned and stared at Dave square in the eyes. Dave couldn't help but shudder, as he drew upon the last reserve of courage he had left.  
"I have to go to the bathroom." Dave said softly.  
"What?" Mr. Sturgeon demanded, with the same reaction that Dave had been expecting.   
"I have to go to the bathroom." Dave repeated.  
"Why don't I just kill you before you go to the bathroom?" Sturgeon asked maliciously.  
"Because, then my bowels will be released and it will fall all over the bed and floor." Dave answered quickly. Sturgeon stared at him, as if he didn't know whether to laugh at him or hit him. Instead of either, Mr. Sturgeon walked out of the room.  
  
He returned a moment later with a bat in his hand, and Dave briefly feared that he was going to die. Sturgeon slipped the bat under his arm and began to untie Dave.   
"No funny stuff or I WILL kill you." Sturgeon uttered. Dave stood and rubbed his wrists.  
"Just walk ahead of me." Sturgeon said, annoyed. Dave walked slowly towards the door and opened it. He was in a small kitchen, probably of an apartment or condo.  
"This was Mike's apartment." Sturgeon stated softly, as if he had been drained of all hatred.   
  
He led Dave to the bathroom, and pushed him in.  
"There are no windows, and nothing in there that can help you, so don't even think about it." With that, Sturgeon closed the door. Dave looked around briefly, but there was indeed nothing of use. There were many pill bottles in the medicine cabinet, but nothing that could help in. Also, if Sturgeon caught him with something, he would probably die. Dave went to the bathroom, and took one more look at the room while he washed his hands. Even if the bathroom didn't yield anything, he hoped his main plan would still work.  
  
He opened the bathroom door, and Mr. Sturgeon and his bat were there to greet him.  
"Back to the room." Sturgeon growled. Dave followed orders. He was struggling for composure, but trying not to show it. He could recall action heroes who were never afraid and always thought up clever tricks. He had now released how much he had once believed in that image, and how false that image really was.  
"On the bed." Sturgeon commanded. Dave complied, and tried to steady his breathing. As Sturgeon tied him up, he gently pulled away with his wrist, trying to gain as much room between his wrist and the gurney railing as possible without Sturgeon noticing.  
  
Mr. Sturgeon seemed distracted, and didn't notice what Dave had done.  
  
A/N   
Wow, it's been awhile. What excuse can I use now? Ok, I got one, I worked some, had school, and volunteered… oh and my mom made me clean the bathroom ?. Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter. Please review and post you suggestions, I could really use them! 


	9. Chapter 9

Mr. Sturgeon was gone, and now Dave was tugging frantically to free his hands. The rope burned his wrist as he pulled, but he could feel them loosening, so he continued. The right wrist came out first. It surprised him so much that his right hand flew towards him with the strength he had been pulling it with. He smiled to himself and closed his eyes for a second. Then, he slowly loosened the rope around his left wrist.  
  
Free at last, Dave sat up. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do next, but he had to do something before Mr. Sturgeon showed up. Dave quietly hopped off the gurney and stood towards the right rail. He untied the rope that had been securing his right hand, then retied it looser. He repeated this with the other side, so if Mr. Sturgeon did return, he could hopefully slip back in and pretend he had never been free.  
  
There was no window in this room, or the bathroom, but there was one in the kitchen. If he could get out there without Mr. Sturgeon seeing, then he could try to drop a message to the street below. The normal Dave, the Dave that wasn't be held hostage, would have laughed at himself. How could he expect anyone who found a message on the street to take it seriously? He had to do something more drastic, but what?  
  
It was probably about noon, Dave figured from the light he had seen through the kitchen window. The safest idea would be to wait until Mr. Sturgeon was asleep. But what if Mr. Sturgeon wouldn't go to sleep, or what if he was dead before then?   
  
Dave found that he was pacing the room, and wondered briefly if Mr. Sturgeon could hear him. He sat down on the gurney to think. He didn't have a lot of options, so he didn't know why this decision was so hard. If Mr. Sturgeon hadn't killed him so far, he had to believe that he would wait a little longer. He finally decided to wait until night, then to go out into the kitchen, and see if he could get out.  
  
Full of despair, Dave laid back down on the gurney and resecured his wrists. He would have to do something that was totally out of his league: wait.  
  
~~~  
  
The hours ticked by and soon Dave had lost track of time. Mr. Sturgeon hadn't come in since his bathroom trip, and without a window, it was hard to tell what time it was. Dave knew he couldn't wait much longer, but what if Mr. Sturgeon came in to check up on him right before going to bed? He waited just a little bit longer.  
  
Then he couldn't do it anymore. He slowly slid out his wrist  
  
~~~  
  
The hours ticked by and soon Dave had lost track of time. Mr. Sturgeon hadn't come in since his bathroom trip, and without a window, it was hard to tell what time it was. Dave knew he couldn't wait much longer, but what if Mr. Sturgeon came in to check up on him right before going to bed? He waited just a little bit longer.  
  
Then he couldn't do it anymore. He slowly slid out his wrists and sat up. Creeping towards the door, Dave couldn't help but feel excited. Excitement, adrenalin, anxiousness, it was really all the same. He slid the door open as slowly as he could, a quickly noticed that it was very dark out. He took a moment to gather his senses. There was the bathroom door, and two other doors. One led to the outside, and the other led to the room where Mr. Sturgeon was probably sleeping. It was a fifty-fifty chance: not the odds that he would want.   
  
He slid slowly towards the window, and looked down. The street was dark, and it was hard to see, but it looked like a fairly busy area. He tried to look at the sides of the building, to find it's front door, and therefore the discover which door would lead him out; but he had no luck. It was too dark to tell. He couldn't risk waking up Mr. Sturgeon. He looked around for something to throw down.   
  
It wasn't much of a kitchen. There was a refrigerator, a counter, and cupboards. It was a kitchen for somebody who wasn't going to get much use out of it. For some reason, this flicker of a thought stuck in his brain. This was Mr. Sturgeon's son's apartment, and Dave had killed him, and for some reason Mike knew he wasn't going to live. Try as he may, Dave still couldn't remember killing anybody. He forced himself to focus on the task at hand.  
  
There was no paper that he could see, and for that matter no pen. Dave stood there in a stupor. He couldn't work with material like this. Then he felt it. Something was pressing against him from his scrub pockets. He pulled it out and in the meager light he was just able to distinguish it. It was his ID badge. There was a post-it stuck to the back of it, and Dave struggled to read it.  
  
We need you at work. Get better soon, Carter.  
  
Dave almost smiled; Thank you, Carter. He almost hurried to the window, but somehow kept his calm. He was going to throw it out the window and hope somebody would pick it up and call the police. But who would do that? Dave reluctantly admitted that that alone would solve nothing. Who would call the police if they found an ID badge?   
  
Dave tried think; what would cause somebody to call the police? When the answer finally came to him, he wished he didn't have to do was he was about. He moved slowly towards the drawers. He opened them up as carefully as he could. At the second drawer, he found the silverware. He found the sharpest knife in the drawer; he wasn't going to make this any worse by using a dull knife.  
  
He held his wrist above the sink and squeezed his fist as hard as he could. Clenching his teeth, he slowly lowered the knife. He made the smallest incision possible, and he still almost screamed out. The blood started dripping immediately. He set the knife down and picked up his badge. He held the badge under his dripping wrist for as long as he dared. He didn't want to make a mess, because he was afraid the sound of running water may awaken Mr. Sturgeon. Grabbing a paper towel, he applied pressure to his wrist. He pressed the wrist against his side under his scrub bottoms (fearing that Mr. Sturgeon would notice the blood on his bare stomach in the morning), picked up his badge with his free hand, and walked towards the window.  
  
He struggled with the window, trying to open it without causing too much noise. Finally, it popped open, and the cool winter air stung his face. About to drop it, Dave stopped himself. What if Mr. Sturgeon left early, and found the badge himself? Dave could think of a backfire to any plan, so he decided he had to take the chance. He looked over and watched as his badge slowly hit the ground. He stared at it for a moment, have expecting somebody to walk by it just then and pick it up; but of course, nobody came.  
  
He slowly closed the window and walked back towards the sink. He used another paper towel to clean the blood from the sink, and with just picking up the knife to clean it, when a sound came from Mr. Sturgeon's room. Dave stood still, totally gripped by terror. Then, as another sound came from the same door, Dave hurried towards his own door. Opening it as quickly as he could without risking a noise, Dave slipped in and closed it again behind him. He was still holding the knife, and he turned frantically looking for a place to stash it. He eventually hid it under the gurney mattress before jumping on the bed himself. He was about to secure his wrists, when he remembered that one still had a paper towel attached to it. He ripped it off and put that under the mattress as well. Then, he quickly popped that wrist under the rope and pressed it as hard as he could against the railing to prevent further bleeding. Now the noise was coming from the kitchen. Dave struggled his other wrist into its bondage, and laid down as if he was asleep.   
  
Just then the door opened. Dave could hear Mr. Sturgeon breathing, but he didn't dare open his eyes. He feared that Mr. Sturgeon would turn on the lights and see his blood, or the loose ropes; but he didn't. After he was satisfied, that Dave was still his captive, Mr. Sturgeon left.  
  
As Dave lie once more in seclusion, his only thoughts were 'now I know what door leads out' and 'I should have looked for a phone'.  
  
A/N:  
Wow, I wrote that in a frenzy! This one's a little longer than usual isn't it? Wow! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it! Please continue to read and review! 


	10. Chapter 10

Dave opened his eyes slowly. He was a little woozy, and quite surprised that he had slept at all. Then he remembered the badge. He just hoped that somebody would call the police.  
  
~~~  
  
Kerry hobbled in through the emergency door entrance. She had stayed at the hospital hours after her shift had ended, hoping to get more information concerning Dave. When the police officer left, Kerry had decided to go home and get some sleep. Surprisingly, Randi was already at her station and looked up to acknowledge Kerry's arrival.  
"No news." She said, anticipating what Kerry would ask. Kerry nodded, and headed towards the board.   
  
She had only been studying it for a minute when Randi called to her.   
"Kerry, the police officer is back."   
  
Kerry turned to see the same police officer from the night before standing in front of the admit desk.  
"Can I talk to you in the lounge?" He asked.  
"Sure." Kerry agreed. Something was wrong; she could feel it. She led the way to the lounge, fearing what the police officer might have to say. When they finally reached it, Kerry headed towards the table and sat down. The officer sat across from her and pulled something from her pocket.  
"I was given this early this morning. I'm supposed to bring it back as soon as possible to give to the crime lab." The police officer explained.  
"What is it?" Kerry asked, her voice rising slightly.  
  
The officer pushed the evidence bag across the table towards her.   
"This is Dr. Malucci's badge, right?" he asked. Kerry was afraid to pick the bag up, but finally she forced herself to. It was Dave's badge, and it was covered in blood. Staring at the red tinted smiling face of Dave, Kerry started to gag mildly. She nodded and slipped it back towards the officer.  
"We got a call early this morning and we went to pick it up. Luckily, we got to it before there were many people on the street."  
"Where did you find it?" Kerry asked.  
"About six miles from here. It was just lying on the street." He answered.  
"What do you think it means?" Kerry's voice almost caught in her throat.  
"It doesn't mean anything Dr. Weaver. There isn't much blood on this, and there was no other evidence on the street. There's no reason to believe he isn't perfectly alright." He tried to sound reassuring. Kerry nodded, but she really didn't believe him. This had to mean something.  
"We're going to have people searching the area, and I do think we will find something." He sounded sure of himself, so Kerry nodded.  
"Thanks."  
  
~~~  
  
Dave had been awake for hours. Somebody had to have found his badge by now. Police could be on their way; police are on their way, he decided. Mr. Sturgeon had been in the kitchen for an hour. It didn't sound like he was cooking breakfast, and Dave wondered what he was doing. Dave's stomach groaned loudly. He wasn't sure when he had last eaten. Had it been after he was taken to the hospital for hypothermia, or had it been even before that? He wasn't sure, and now that he was fairly certain he would be rescued soon, his stomach seemed to be a high priority.  
  
Then he heard Mr. Sturgeon walking towards his room. Dave's stomach reversed back into submission as the adrenaline returned. Mr. Sturgeon entered holding his bat and walked towards Dave. He tucked the bat under his arm as he started to loosen one of Dave's wrists. Then he hesitated. Dave's heart practically jumped out of his chest; he knew.  
"You tried to trick me!" Mr. Sturgeon wailed, griping the bat and bringing it down onto Dave's stomach with all his force. Dave saw spots as he curled around his stomach. His left wrist slipped out of its restraint and Dave tumbled off the gurney to the right side, opposite Mr. Sturgeon. His vision still blurry, Dave forced himself to stand. Mr. Sturgeon was coming at him from the right side, walking around the gurney. Dave started to stumble away from him, heading towards the door. On his way, he quickly flipped up the mattress and retrieved the knife he had hid there last night.   
  
Mr. Sturgeon was even more furious, and he started to run. Dave held the knife in front of him as he struggled to open the door while not facing it. The door finally opened, but it opened inward. Dave had to flip around, exposing his back to Mr. Sturgeon as he pulled it open farther and slipped out. Mr. Sturgeon let out an anguished scream as he continued to run towards Dave. Dave hurried for the door, but Mr. Sturgeon was too close. Dave heard the sound of breaking air and turned just in time to see the bat connect with his head. Dave fell automatically, and he was still conscious to hear his own thud.  
  
He lost sound first. He could still see Mr. Sturgeon looming over him, wearing a face of continuing anguish and newfound satisfaction. He lost his sense of understanding next. He saw the door open and the police officer enter with his gun already raised, but he didn't understand it. Then everything went dark.  
  
~~~  
  
Dave opened his eyes. Something was wrong. His ears were ringing and there were spots in front of his eyes; and he was experiencing the worst migraine of his life. The spots didn't subside, but he was able to concentrate on the ceiling behind him. He could recognize that ceiling anywhere, he was at the hospital.  
"Dave?" somebody called. Loudly, much too loud. Dave's head screamed in protest and tried to silence it by gripping it in both hands. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to will the pain away. A minute later, when it had receded, he opened his eyes to see Kerry looking down on him. She looked relieved and apologetic. She started again, whispering softly.  
"You're going to be fine. You suffered a severe concussion, but there doesn't seem to be any other damage." She smiled, "There are other people waiting to see you."  
Dave took a moment to think.  
"Are they all as loud as you?" he groaned.  
  
  
  
  
  
A/N:  
The End!   
  
Mr. Sturgeon is in jail, and I seized the chance to hurt Dave yet again. Anyway, I wrote this all for you today because I felt guilty righting my Star Wars chapter the other day. I know it was a long time, and I'm sorry.  
  
Anyway, Thanks sooooooooo much for reading! -Alyssa 


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